Elemental Assassin 05 - Spider's Revenge

second skin.
    But my lover was determined to take the bastards down with him.
    Owen gripped a blacksmith’s hammer in his hands. I’d never seen him fight before, and I hadn’t spied him putting the hammer in the car earlier. But he used the solid, heavy, black hammer like it was a staff, swinging it first one way, then the other, with easy, deadly skill, his movements as beautiful and graceful as those of any dancer. Two giants already lay crumpled at his feet, their blood shimmering like oil slicks on the pavement. Judging from their caved-in skulls, they wouldn’t be getting up anytime soon. Good.
    The four giants who were left eased in toward Owen, but a couple of cracks of his hammer against their ribs sent them scurrying back. They all stared at each other, hesitant to step forward and take the full force of Owen’s assault. One of the giants was a little bolder or perhaps just a little stupider than the rest because he rushed toward Owen, intending to overpower him with his sheer, brute strength and then let the others pile on. Fool.
    Owen waited until the man was in range, then pivoted and swung his hammer in a perfect arc. The metal slammed into the giant’s temple. That side of his skull collapsed, and blood squirted out of him like juice from an orange. The giant never made a sound, although his body hit the pavement with an audible thump.
    “Come on!” Owen roared. “Come on! Which one of you bastards is next?”
    The three remaining giants exchanged uneasy looks, but none of them dared to step up and get their head bashed in like their buddy just had. In that regard, they were smarter than they seemed—but not smart enough to do something as simple as look behind them.
    With an angry hiss, I leaped out of the shadows and slammed my knives into the giant closest to me. The blades flashed silver in the firelight just before they ripped into his broad back. One cut, then two, and he was dead. The giant gurgled out a weak scream before he went down, and the others’ heads snapped around at the surprise attack from the rear.
    I didn’t hesitate, and neither did Owen.
    He moved forward and slammed his hammer into another giant’s knee, before whipping around and plowing his weapon into the man’s other knee. The giant howled with pain, staggered back, and did a header onto the pavement. I grabbed his hair, yanked his head back, and cut his throat before letting him flop to the ground once more.
    That left only one giant, who started backing away from us, eyes wide with surprise and more than a touch of fear. Normally, I would have charged after him and put him down, but there was no point in it. Not tonight. Not when Mab and Jonah McAllister had both already seen my face and knew that I was the Spider.
    Owen tightened his grip on his hammer and started after the giant, but I grabbed his arm and pulled him back toward the car.
    “Forget him,” I rasped, my throat burning from the effort of talking. “We need to get out of here. Now!”
    Owen nodded, and the two of us hopped into the car. He cranked the engine and threw the BMW in reverse. By this point, more people filled the parking lot, taking refuge from the flames that had skipped from one roof to another of the country club’s buildings. Most of the people wore dazed, shocked expressions, but there were several of Mab’s giants in the mix—men determined to find us, to find
me
.
    The giant who’d gotten away from Owen and me waved his arms and screamed at his brethren before pointing in our direction. The other giants got the message and raced forward. Those who had guns raised them up and took aim at Owen’s car.
    Crack! Crack! Crack!
    Bullet after bullet slammed into the vehicle. One splintered the windshield in between us, while the others thudded into the metal hood.
    “Go!” I told Owen. “Go!”
    He threw the car in gear, stomped on the gas, and roared out of the parking lot. The car raced down the hill and took a turn on two wheels. One of Mab’s giants must have gotten the bright idea to alert the man in the guardhouse at the bottom of the hill, because up ahead, I could see the club’s iron gates closing. Owen spotted them too and slammed his foot on the gas pedal so hard that I thought he might punch it through the floorboard. He knew as well as I did that getting trapped on the grounds would seal our fate. But for once, luck actually smiled on us, because the BMW shot through the gates just before it was too late. A